


Bare.

by AuntieKuroNeko



Category: Naruto
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 06:45:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19312783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuntieKuroNeko/pseuds/AuntieKuroNeko
Summary: To bare one of their mask is to see beyond their walls, right through their soul. Kakashi just wants to be seen.





	Bare.

**Author's Note:**

> A oneshot I made when I wanted to write something other than "Sweet." (If you don't know it, you can find it in my profile). As always, thank you to my beta, Sam.

“Why me?”

It was a difficult question to answer, Iruka knew, but that did not deter him. Heavy silence fell between them, the wind cutting through the little defense their flak jackets gave and caressing their skin with ice cold strokes, though neither shivered. No matter how much they wanted to. They were trained not to feel, to not show weakness—tools at Konoha’s disposal, soldiers above all else.

Out of all the lessons Iruka had drilled into himself, that one was the hardest to believe in.

Because it was a lie.

Sometimes Iruka believed he felt more than anyone else. The rules of being a shinobi had waged war against him since he’d been a genin. Yet it was no match for the myriad of emotions that ran wild through him, down to his bone marrow. Iruka felt sorry, he felt lonely, he felt angry, he felt desperate, he felt pity, and he felt love.

It had gotten worse when he’d become a teacher and became more aware of his hypocrisy. He taught his students that tears must never be shed, and yet his pillow was soaked with them almost every night.

Then, it became a matter of survival rather than law. Shinobi  _ could  _ feel, he realized, but they had to hide. Masks upon masks needed to be drilled into their being. Whether they were physical or mental manifestations.

And Iruka refused to wear a mask. The same could not be said for the man in front of him.

“Kakashi-san, why me?” Iruka repeated.

He was covered in blood, and it didn’t appear to be mostly his. Nicks and tears spread throughout Kakashi’s clothes; it was a wonder how his flak jacket managed to survive.

Such a sight was not unfamiliar to Iruka. Over the years, he had greeted many home, thanking them for their service as they could barely stand on their feet in front of him. He would convey with his eyes and expression as much as he could that he did not consider his comrades to be senseless murders or monsters. They were good, they had done a good job. They were alive.

And they would rest knowing that Umino Iruka would continue smiling at them and wishing them a kind farewell.

He had accepted Naruto, after all. Because if not him, who else? For a village of shinobi that prided themselves as unfeeling, they sure knew how to hate a harmless boy for shouldering a demonic fate he did not ask for.

It was a decision that he would have to deal with for the rest of his life. Just like with Mizuki. Some had said Iruka was foolish and naïve, to not see the signs that Mizuki was a traitor and to get attached to a jinchuuriki. He brushed their comments off. They didn’t know about his sacrifices, his choice to give his heart so freely.

He sent his students, his  _ children, _ out to battle eventually, and sometimes, they never came home.   

They did not know how easily he would take their place and fight their fights, and how he would kill and bleed, because he would. Then he would come home, if he came home at all, and he would feel, and break, and the vicious cycle would repeat.

Kakashi was not a person he had given a piece of his heart to, not yet anyway. But here Kakashi was, standing in the middle of his living room, looking at Iruka in a way that made his breath stop.

Maybe the question wasn’t so difficult to answer, now that he thought about it.

Kakashi started to sway on his feet, and Iruka instinctively stepped forward to catch him if necessary. “You,” he began, slowly, weakly. Chakra deprivation. “You never asked. All you did was smile. And I want to be selfish this time.”

Iruka frowned, confused again and thrown off balance by the confession. They weren’t friends, and they had barely talked except for moments of common courtesy. Why would Iruka ask Kakashi for anything except Team 7’s progress? Even if he had been initially perturbed by Kakashi’s mask, attitude, and a violent reputation revealed to him by the Sandaime, it was none of his business to intrude.

A mask was a mask.

“Are you going to take it off?” Iruka tried not to flinch when Kakashi’s sharingan snapped open. It spun as if Kakashi had no control over it, but his dark gray eye peered at him with such steady calmness that it was more frightening than the sharingan.

“Do you know what you’re asking?” Kakashi whispered.

The windows began to rattle, and the only light present was from the streetlamps, seeping shyly through the rain. Iruka realized that he had forgotten to close some of them right before the storm began. Water would no doubt end up the floor.

“Yes, I do,” Iruka said firmly and stepped forward. Kakashi could kill him, even in his weakened state, but Iruka didn’t care. This was a man who was being eaten from the inside out, and Iruka would need to make the first move. “Show me.”

Kakashi didn’t break eye contact, only lifting one hand to his mask. “Help me.”

Iruka drew closer again, until he was almost pressed right against him. Kakashi was warm, too warm, and for a moment Iruka feared that he had a fever and was stuck in a delusion. Yet Kakashi appeared to be  _ so sure _ about this, and it wouldn’t do either of them good to deny such a request.

There was a nod, and the wet fabric slowly came off, baring Kakashi’s face of the only protection its ever known, baring his soul of its walls.

Iruka had been wrong. He didn’t feel more than anyone else. Couldn’t, because there was Kakashi, who wore pain, grief, and fear as if it were a curse directly from the gods. Iruka could not imagine his smile.

“Do you want to know what I see?” Iruka asked, gently thumbing the corner of Kakashi’s mouth, almost in awe.

Kakashi nodded again, and he tensed, appearing to brace himself for Iruka’s words.

“I see you, and your worth, and your humanity,” Iruka said. “Do you know what else?”   

Kakashi shivered and then shook his head. It was almost painful to watch. Iruka would need to finish this soon, or Kakashi would collapse on the spot. One of his traps might have done some damage.

“I’ve never seen you as a killer nor a prodigy,” Iruka confessed, and it was true. He hated those titles, saw what it did to his students, how it ruined them every time. “Konoha is proud of your existence but for the wrong reasons.”

Tears were streaming down Kakashi’s face at this point, and Iruka let them fall, refusing to wipe them away. He would not hide the evidence that Kakashi was just like him.

“I see you,” Iruka whispered. "I always will. I promise."

But Iruka wondered, if Kakashi was ready to see  _ him _ .

  
  
  



End file.
